Sunday, May 22, 2016

(A note to my readers: if you’ll
indulge me, I’d like to make a brief departure from my usual writing
format. This…love letter—which is what I’m
calling it—is concerning a man and a story that has grown very close to my
heart. It goes without saying: spoilers
for all four Uncharted games.)

Dear Nate,

I’m a little ashamed to say that
I only became acquainted with your story when it was almost over. I seem to have a knack for that, coming into
the story at the very end. Lord
of the Rings. Harry
Potter. Star Wars. I won’t go on. But I’ve grown to love your story just as
much—if not maybe a little smidge more in some ways (gasp!)—than the others I
mentioned. Yours is a story of adventure, bravery, love, humanity and heart—some of the things I prize most.

Your adventures truly are some of the most
spectacular I’ve seen.

And that’s saying
something. You had a tough row to hoe,
Nate—the adventures of the swashbucklers that came before you have become legendary: those
of Indiana Jones. Han Solo. Lara Croft.
Okay, I’ll stop. My point is that
although to begin with it seemed unlikely that your ventures would measure up, they do.
You traveled to new and exciting places, like South America as you
hunted for El Dorado. Tibet in the
Himalayas on your search for Shambhala. Yemen and the great Rub’ al Khali desert on
your way to find Iram of the Pillars—the Atlantis of the Sands. Scotland and Madagascar on your pursuit of
Libertalia and Henry Avery’s fabled treasure hoard. I’ve never had the chance to travel around the
world, but through your eyes, I saw all the lush and diverse landscapes for
myself, had the chance to marvel at them for myself.

Your stories blend the adventure with an
equal amount of heart.

The stories you allowed your
audience to be a part of are more grounded in reality and humanity than any of
your peers. Indiana Jones and Han Solo
didn’t allow us into their lives as much as you do. You showed us the deep bonds of trust and
love you share with your adopted father, Sully (Victor “Sully” Sullivan). You showed us how much your relationship with
Elena is like ours: ups and downs, ins and outs, on again and off again, and in
the end, a deeply-rooted friendship with someone who knows you better than you
know yourself—not picture-perfect like the movies. Heck, your childhood was far from perfect,
and there are many of us who can relate to that. It’s a rare thing for the “hero” of a story
like yours to be so gloriously, so imperfectly
human.

You don’t try to shroud your exploits in
bravado and macho-ness.

In adventure stories like yours,
the hero is usually the picture of heroic stoicism and daring. He falls down a cliff and jumps right back
up, grunting, “I’m okay.” He punches a
whole bunch of bad guys and keeps on truckin’ even though his knuckles are
bloody. He gets cut and bruised and
scraped and masks it beneath a stoic exterior.
You don’t do that. When you fall
down a cliff, it hurts. You don’t feel the need to hide that, and I
find that admirable. I’ve seen you punch
a guy and shake your hand and groan, “Ow
that hurts!” You’ve gotten cut and bruised
and scraped up and say things like, “Cliff-side grazed my face.” You don’t mask your hurts. You laugh them off, a trait we should all strive
to foster in ourselves.

(A quick side-note to Nolan North.

Nolan, you really are Nathan Drake. I’ve seen the interviews, gotten to know you
a little bit. So I know you’re not just
joking around when you said that Naughty Dog allowed you the creative freedom
to put a lot of yourself into Nate. Not
only did you lend Nate your voice, but with motion—excuse me—performance capture you allowed Naughty
Dog to use you to breathe life into him.
His humour is your humour. His turns
of phrase are yours. His grunts and
groans as he bangs around the cargo hold of a plane are yours. You’ve literally put your blood, sweat and
tears into Nathan Drake, and I don’t think I can thank you—or Naughty
Dog—enough.)

But most of all, Nate…you’re just you.

The biggest reason why I love
you, Nate, is of course you. I may be reiterating something I’ve already
said, but there are precious few heroes out there like you. You’re not afraid to show your vulnerable side
to the ones closest to you. You value
love and family above the treasure you go hunting for, and you’d let a whole
city of riches burn to ash before you let any harm come to your loved
ones. You’d rather sue for peace than
fire a gun, but you will if the need drives you to protect yourself and
yours. You’re never without a quip or a
wisecrack, and you laugh off your misfortunes sooner than let them get to you. You’ve had your fair share of hard times and
losses in your life, but you don’t let them define you. You rise above them. I feel like I know you as well as some of my
best friends, Nate…maybe even family.

Your stories and adventures have
gotten me through some pretty tough times, Nate. No matter how bad things got, all it would
take was to turn on the TV, fire up the Playstation, and spend a few hours with
you in the ancient temples of Tibet or the mountainous, sweeping green and russet vistas of Madagascar. A mere
few hours to set the course of my world back on sunnier paths. I can’t thank you (or Nolan or Naughty Dog)
enough, Nate. And with the last few
seconds of Uncharted 4, I can’t begin to describe the pain I feel at
having to say goodbye.

So here it is. Wait...no. I won’t say goodbye. I can’t…I can’t do that.

I’ll say this. Thank you, Nate. You’ll always have a special place in my
heart, and I will always remember
you.

Hi. I'm Galahad. But those that know me call me another name. Writing's in my blood, and I breathe in books so deeply that the characters become family, and their worlds, mine.
I'm a die-hard Marvel fangirl, and I claim dual citizenship in the USA and Middle-earth. I don't discriminate between tea and coffee; I love both, and family means more to me than anything else in the world.
(Photo source: Not Our Fight by Westling on Deviantart)